


Scars of the Past

by Archaeologyfiend



Series: From a Certain Point of View [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin gets that therapy, Discussion of marriage traditions, Effects this had on Anakin, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Introspection, Kinda, Naboo Culture, OC's - Freeform, Political Philosophy, Politics, Rebellion, Semi-Graphic description of the aftermath of terrorism, Slavery, Tatooine Slave Culture, Therapy, This is what the Rebellion is to the Empire after all, culture clash, relief efforts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 20:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17587586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeologyfiend/pseuds/Archaeologyfiend
Summary: Anakin gets therapy as the war with the Rebellion explodes around them. Plots are set up and extremists of the Rebellion decide to attack on Tatooine. Veers is doing his best.OrAnakin brings Veers and Piett on board with the overarching plans and discovers a few things about himself, his world views and his marriage.





	Scars of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know how to describe this one, since it bounces between two very different situations but as a warning: the end describes the aftermath of a terrorist attack (as in the tags) conducted by the Rebellion. Just so you are aware in case anything triggering is included e.g. references to children's deaths.

Therapy, Anakin decided, was not what he had been expecting. Sure, the doctor probed, usually in areas that had Anakin half reaching for the Dark Side before pushing it away. Sy-Ro merely stared through the molten anger or grief or whatever other useless emotion he had pulled to the fore with an irritating calm. Unlike Obi-Wan though, he didn’t hide his emotions, not even the small bouts of fear but he didn’t judge either. Didn’t invalidate how he had felt, whether that was right or wrong.

Anakin had tested him a few times. In the first couple of sessions he had described all of the grisly details of Ryloth, of the decimation he had brought to the Zygerrion Empire. The man had admittedly gone pale, but had been steadfast, merely giving a quiet inquiry here or there as to why he had felt such things were necessary. Then thrown Anakin for a loop, noting that many of the battle-hardened patients he had treated often became immune to the atrocities of war. It almost made it sound like such things were _normal_ , even if Anakin’s actions were extreme.

Then, there were days where they simply discussed everything and nothing. One session Sy-Ro had asked him about Padme. Anakin had sat and stared at him dumbly for a moment, the lump in that he couldn’t dislodge from his throat at any mention of her in full force. Speaking of his wife was hard. _Thinking_ about her was hard, about what he had done to her… Even at night, he was tortured by the image of her, hands at her throat, struggling against the hold of the Dark Side. Stuck in the trap that Palpatine had set and that Obi-Wan had unwittingly sprung.

His old Master had thought it the only viable way to deal with traps.

Sy-Ro was also of the curious disposition to hold a distaste for all things Jedi. It was new, Anakin being so used to people praising them. Most of the time. His face had gone through a strange contortion when he had asked about Anakin’s life in the Temple, of his time as a Padawan under his brother. Then, he asked a question that Anakin had never put much thought to before.

“Did you ever feel free under the Jedi?”

“What?” Anakin looked away from the view of the window, overlooking the jetty. Despite the tainted memories Varykino held, he couldn’t help but admit that it was soothing, being so far away from the front. Jobal, hearing the time that he would be available for the next step in his treatment, had practically insisted that they all stay here, at his estate. And wasn’t that a strange thought- that he _owned_ a place as beautiful as this.

“In your time as a member of the Jedi Order. Did you ever feel free?” Sy-Ro’s voice was even, calm, but Anakin could feel that he was apprehensive of the answer in the Force. It was a strange question and Anakin shrugged.

“I was told I was free. That I was no longer a slave,” he said, returning to the view. If only Villes would give him back his prosthetics, he could actually go out and _enjoy_ this place. Practice swimming again or something like that. Not be shut up in the house under watchful eyes, just waiting for another breakdown.

“So that’s a no.” Anakin twitched at that. Well, no, he supposed he hadn’t. The Jedi had chained him down, if not under rules and regulations, then under stifling training that insisted he think and feel a certain way, to let go of the agony of leaving his mother behind in such a place like Tatooine. He had kept any and all prayers to the goddess a secret, hid the remembrance cord beneath his clothes and clutched it like a lifeline at night, wondering if he would still be there the next morning. If he could ever leave. When Shabblath came around, carefully calculated from Coruscant, or wherever he was at the time, he would burn his offerings out of sight and out of mind, whispering prayers that his mother would be safe. She had never been far from his mind, not even when those thoughts turned to Padme and he wished her luck with every fibre of his being. He fiddled with the remembrance cord now, much longer than it had been back in the Clone Wars when Ahsoka had asked what it was, not particularly liking this turn of events.

“What does it matter?” he asked harshly. “It doesn’t change the here and now.”

“It matters,” Sy-Ro said. “We learn from the past. Slavery has been a large part of yours and it appears that is something the Jedi Council never took into account.” _Anakin has experience with the Hutts_. It still left a foul taste in his mouth, more so than having to _flirt_ with that heinous being that called herself a _Queen_. Rex had had to drag him out of the fresher on more than one occasion the weeks after that particular mission, cursing in Mando’a, and tucking him into the nearest bed like a child. In hindsight, the clone’s discretion was something he could only appreciate now.

“It was something I should have let go into the Force,” Anakin said evenly, and Sy-Ro _twitched_. He wondered what he had said that annoyed the man now.

“And this is why you are here,” Sy-Ro said through half-gritted teeth. “Bottling up emotions or not acknowledging them is unhealthy. Forcing someone to confront something terrible that happened to them has some merits in exposure, but not to the lengths you were forced to. They ought to have reconsidered as which Jedi were _appropriate_ to send into a slave Empire.” It occurred to Anakin, that perhaps Sy-Ro’s frustration was not aimed at him. He turned the chair ever so slightly so he could look at him, confused.

“It was a crucial mission. The taking of the Togruta colonies was a travesty.” Sy-Ro blinked, letting out a long breath.

“That may be. However, as a psychiatrist, I can tell that it didn’t do you any good.” Anakin scowled and turned away again. So what if it had? The Togruta had been freed, Ahsoka would never have to know the pain of watching those around her live under the yoke like he had once done. That he had been the one to deal with the Queen, had had to put up with her filthy hands _touching_ him, was nothing in the face of the Togrutas pure relief to be freed. Then again, only a few had been enslaved long enough to have been chipped. The Zygerrions preferred shock collars over chips. Sy-Ro, as if sensing that Anakin was not going to speak about that topic anymore, shifted the conversation elsewhere.

“Your sister-in-law tells me this was always a sanctuary for you,” he said, noting something down on the datapad in front of him.

“You spend too much time talking to Sola. Darred might get jealous.” Sy-Ro just smiled at the barb as if it were a joke instead.

“You were married here.” Anakin blinked, wondering where he was going with this.

“Yes. Twice.” An eyebrow quirked up at that and Anakin flushed, remembering old embarrassment as Jobal sat both himself and his wife down, nearing their first anniversary, and told them off like children. Then demanded that they have another to commemorate their anniversary, adhering to Tatooine traditions as well as those of Naboo. That had… surprised him, newly knighted as he was. “Jobal insisted. She wasn’t happy that she missed our actual wedding.”

“You were married in secret.”

“Hardly that much of a secret here,” Anakin grumbled, still embarrassed, even fourteen years later. “It didn’t really matter to me, how we were married and we both agreed that should it be found out, it would be disastrous.”

“Yes,” Sy-Ro said, somewhat distastefully. “And the second? How did you feel about that?”

“I…” Anakin hadn’t thought of the second wedding all that much. Yes, it had been a strange combination of his home traditions, but it had also been fairly large to him. Padme’s family all there, along with the Lars’, who had been near dragged off the dustbowl that was Tatooine to join in the celebrations. Beru had cried if he remembered rightly and Cliegg had taken his hand and told him gravely, “ _Your mother would be proud._ ” They’d given Padme a cord of her own as a wedding present and insisted he keep in touch. He had been… bad at that, only occasionally remembering to answer the messages they sent. In his defence, he had been _busy,_ and they’d never called him out on it. “It was large.”

“Sounded small to me for a Naboo wedding,” Sy-Ro said. “Especially for an ex-Queen. The last one that got married publicly had half the city of Theed invited.” Anakin swallowed panic at the thought of that.

“Why?” he _asked_. He most certainly did not squeak. Sy-Ro thankfully didn’t comment.

“Naboo weddings are usually huge occasions, doubly so when it comes to their leaders. Depending on how popular the Queen is, the people want to join in with her happiness. Since your wife was one of the most popular Queens, no doubt had it been known, you would have half the planet insisting to celebrate with you. The other half might have turned up for you.” Anakin blinked, glad he was sitting. Half the _planet_? He knew Padme was popular, she had always had a chorus of people excited to meet her whenever he had ‘guarded’ her on her trips home. That some may have been there for him too was… mind-boggling. Sy-Ro merely sat in silence, watching him carefully before continuing. “I take it Tatooine weddings are less opulent?”

“Yes,” he said shortly, still trying to process the idea that they wouldn’t have been thrown off the planet. He knew the Senate wouldn’t have celebrated, he would have been thrown out of the Jedi Council but that elsewhere would have celebrated? The whole point of it being a secret was because the Masters wouldn’t allow it, the _Senate_ wouldn’t have allowed it and Padme loved her job, fighting for the people. He hadn’t cared either way about being a part of the Order, so long as he could help on the ground. “The Masters would never allow a slave to marry. So, you make promises to be faithful and honest to each other, for as long as you are alive, no matter where you are.” He tugged slightly at the snippet from his mother, the one he had had the longest. “No matter what job your Master forces you to do.” Truthfully, he had never really believed his mother’s tale of being born without conception. He had just thought to spare her retelling whatever pain she had hidden from him.

A silence fell over them and it occurred to Anakin they had fallen back on the topic of slavery. Sy-Ro hadn’t commented on it, but the implication was there. That his ideas on marriage had been different to Padme’s had been obvious since the moment Jobal had confronted them about it, but she had never judged them. Either of them. And Padme had listened to his explanations, her eyes sad but with a smile…

“Oh,” Anakin breathed.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Sy-Ro said evenly, standing. “I’ll recommend to Villes to get started on those prosthetics for you.” Anakin blinked and watched him leave, hand still holding the small japor snippet that had been Padme’s, all those years ago.

* * *

Colonel Veers was not often on Star Destroyers. Ever since the _Executor_ had been built, however, he seemed to be spending more and more time on them. Or perhaps it was that he was simply moving back up the ranks once more, favoured by the terrifying presence of Darth Vader. Both he and Lieutenant Piett seemed to be favoured after several particularly difficult missions which they had barely made their way out of with their lives. Sitting in the commissary of the ship now, however, they were near ostracised from the others. Some would try to use them to garner favour with Vader too, while those with some sympathies for the Rebellion tended to stay away. Others were simply too terrified of the man to come close. Veers had never been sure why, in recent years it seemed that Vader had… _softened_ somehow, become a little less rough around the edges. Of course, he was still as strict as ever but there was less of a chance of death if you made a mistake.

Unless you were an admiral.

Another curious aspect was the man sitting opposite them. They were both sharing drinks after clearing up the mess the Rebels had just left behind in Fondor, waiting for their next instructions. The man opposite them, however, was old, grizzled and unmistakeably one of the last vestiges of the clones from the Clone Wars. They had spoken with Commander Cody several times in the past, usually when the man needed help to come up with reasons why Vader was _not_ on board. Like right now.

“Commander,” Veers started, having decided with Piett that they ought to find out the reason _why_ their Lord seemed to disappear every so often, “As much as we appreciate Lord Vader’s support, what exactly is it you want from us?” Because the clone rarely approached others at their level. The only reason they broached the subject _here_ instead of somewhere more private was simply because no one cared what people were talking about during mealtimes. Most were looking forward to bed and the noise meant any of the Emperor’s spies would be unable to hear them. Cody seemed to agree with this line of thinking otherwise he would never have joined them. He seemed to consider the answer to that, tapping the helmet of his outdated uniform next to him. Veers had always wondered why Vader had never gotten him to upgrade it.

“Nothing more than you’ve given me,” he stated, taking a mouthful of food. Well, no one could say the clones were disloyal.

“Yes, but,” Piett paused, glancing around before continuing, checking for any listening ears. “Where exactly _is_ Lord Vader? It’s been months.” The first disappearance had been for three months. Others were usually only a couple of weeks, maximum, and usually with the statement that it was something medical. Veers had always assumed that the suit was more than it appeared. “He isn’t dying, is he?” That would be their worst fear- who would be able to run the Navy half so well as Vader, let alone the ground troops? Cody blinked and then shook his head.

“No. Not dying.” So, it was something medical then. Perhaps his health had been deteriorating and they hadn’t noticed? It wasn’t as if Vader shared his history with anyone. “The General’s recovering.” _General?_ Was that how the clones thought of Vader, Veers wondered, exchanging glances with Piett. Cody seemed to realise he had said something off as he coughed awkwardly, eyes down at his meal.

“So, he’s been injured?” Veers said, deciding to leave that piece of information for later. The only Generals the clones had ever served under were the Jedi, and they were all _mostly_ dead. Veers hadn’t been a fan- serving in the Clone Wars himself had given him the perspective that the Jedi ought to have let a few non-Force Sensitives do their jobs properly, without the mandate of having to ask _permission_ to get something done. Then again, many of the Generals and Admirals now were only there because of family name rather than hard work, and those that _weren’t_ seemed to last longer. Cody shook his head, glancing around, tapping his fingers once again on the helmet. It occurred to Veers that the helmet might have been placed where it was for a reason. Troopers usually left their helmets on the table, just like Cody had, but didn’t usually care what happened to them. The visors were terrible to see out of.

“He was. He’s trying to improve that.” Cody paused, eyes somewhere behind them. “But that’s enough of that. Lord Vader will be back soon.” With that he stood up abruptly, taking the helmet with him. Veers narrowed his eyes and quickly finished his own meal. They were being watched. He could feel it.

Cody turned out to be right. The next day, Vader appeared back on the bridge, as if nothing had ever happened. Things carried on as normal, the Admiral stuttered his apologies for the men lost and Vader didn’t even afford him the glory of death. He was stuck in a pod and spaced down to the planet, stripped of all titles. Ozzel took up the mantle of Admiral and Piett found himself promoted to Ozzel’s old role. It wasn’t exactly a surprising turn of events. What was, was finding Cody in his cabin that night cycle.

“Commander,” Veers said, snapping to attention. What was he doing here? Had Vader been dissatisfied with his work on Fondor? It wasn’t outside the realms of possibility- he had originally been banking on the help of their Supreme Commander but had had to do without.

“Lord Vader will see you in his quarters,” the clone said, face blank. Veers swallowed but followed him through the ship. He had never been to Lord Vader’s personal quarters- few ever did and even fewer left alive. Veers was loyal to him but knew that that wouldn’t keep him safe.

Veers wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he was shown into Vader’s quarters but the bare, spartan office no different to a standard office was not one of them. Ozzel’s new office was not only larger but also held aspects of a life lived. Vader’s was bare. The only sign of frivolity being the viewport showing the planet below them set up behind Vader’s desk- hardly a surprise considering how often the man contemplated in front of them on the bridge. A datapad was sat on the desk but Vader wasn’t using it, instead standing at the viewport. A door led off to other rooms, but Veers got the feeling they were just as bare as this one. As if the Supreme Commander and Second-in-Command of the Empire didn’t exist outside of the terrifying visage everyone saw of him.

“You are dismissed Commander Cody,” Vader rumbled, and the clone left, no doubt to keep guard at the door. Veers noted that Piett was also here, sat gingerly on the edge of a seat. Silence settled over the office, filled only with the sound of the respirator echoing Vader’s breathing. Had they asked too many questions as to where Vader was? Admiral Cors had been rather giddy at the idea of showing Vader how well he could run the fleet- now Veers got the feeling that the admiral had been set up to fail, only so Vader could get rid of another useless member of the upper echelons that the Emperor wanted kept alive.

“Lord Vader,” he said, acknowledging the man in the room, standing at attention. Piett had probably been ordered to sit considering how quickly he came to stand to attention next to him.

“What do you think of the state of the Empire?” Veers blinked at the question, wondering what the man wanted from that. Was he being set up? Was this some long elaborate trap? Veers glanced briefly towards Piet who looked equally nonplussed.

“My Lord?” he asked, not wanting to spend what may possibly be his last few hours seen as a potential Rebel. If Vader heard the fear Veers had tried to push away, he made no motion to acknowledge it.

“The Empire. What do you think of the state of it compared to the Republic before?” An equally loaded question and Veers resisted the urge to shift awkwardly. It was no secret he had served in the Clone Wars in his early years with the Army. That he had been outspoken about the system as a young impressionable idiot, was equally well-known. Piett, who had been more reserved when he joined at the turn from Republic to Empire, had been equally disillusioned with the failing system. The turn from democracy to authoritarianism was no surprise. Its dangerous leaning down the slippery slope to totalitarianism was becoming all the more alarming as the Senate became more and more stagnant and useless. A reliance on the upper classes and a non-human policy echoed a dangerous thought process.

“It was stable for a time,” Veers ventured, deciding that if Vader was going to kill him, might as well get s _ome_ concerns out in the open. “It seems that the Emperor listens to his advisors less in these troubled times, however.” Piett shifted awkwardly next to him, his agreement plain. Vader said nothing and Veers subtly nudged his friend. It appeared that he was waiting for them both to speak. Piett seemed to consider his words with care before speaking.

“There are concerns that we are falling away from democracy. We lack proper leadership,” he said and then, realising the implication he may have just made, quickly followed it up with, “in certain areas.” Vader had no reaction to Piett’s words, still turned away from them. Even then, it was difficult to read Vader’s mood through the mask, although there was no sense of malice in the air as when he was about to murder someone.

“I agree.” Veers stared at Vader’s admission as the man turned from the viewport. “You may be at ease. Your deaths will not come today.” It was hard to relax it the wake of Vader’s statement, however. Was it Veers, or did it seem like the Supreme Commander was potentially asking _treason_ of them?

“Sir?” Piett breathed, tense beside him. The mask was blank as always, giving nothing of the Lord’s thoughts away.

“When the Empire was constructed, it was under the idea of eliminating the corruption within and without the Senate,” Vader started. “It was to make the system more efficient.” And that made sense- too many times had the war been stalled by soft Senators arguing behind their safe walls and paid for clone guards. “However, Palpatine’s only interest is in power.” The vocoder found emotion difficult to pick up, but Veers could hear the spite in which Vader spat that out. Clearly, no love was lost between the two leaders of the Empire.

“Surely, you are not suggesting a return to the Republic?” Veers asked before he could stop himself. He had lived through the shambles that was the dying breath of the Republic. It just hadn’t worked. Vader cocked his head to one side and Veers got the feeling he was amused by that statement.

“No,” he said. “The Republic died with Senator Amidala.” Veers winced at that. The Naboo Senator’s death had sent shockwaves through the newly formed Empire. Many had mourned her death, including Veers. If anyone could have made the system work, it would have been her had she had the opportunity to live. Although…

“A coup then?” Veers guessed. It was the only logical conclusion to that statement. “I was not aware that you were interested in politics?” If they were discussing treason, there was no harm in a _little_ informality.

“I am not,” Vader agreed. “However, my wife was a politician. And the Emperor has deigned to teach me well enough.” Veers blinked and he felt Piett just barely stop his mouth from falling open. _Wife?_ Lord Vader was _married_? That was a surprise, along with the curious adage that the Emperor had _taught_ Vader anything. He shared a glance with Piett and they shared a nod.

“We’d be honoured to have you as Emperor,” Piett said. The vocoder made a strange noise, and Veers got the distinct impression that Vader was laughing at them.

“I thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, “however, I have no intention of taking the throne.”

“Then who?” Veers asked before he could stop himself. He mentally berated himself for that unprofessionalism. He was better than this. Vader did not seem to care, though.

“There are a few candidates,” Vader stated almost mildly. “It will take some time before we are in any position to make a move, however.” So, this was a long running plan. Veers could understand the need for discretion in the case of this. “In that time, the Emperor will have weakened the Empire further.” By the sounds of it, Vader was frustrated by that statement as much as it did Veers. Why could they not just replace the Emperor now? He was certainly getting on in years. “That will not work, Colonel,” Vader intoned, and Veers started. _Is it true that Vader can read minds?_ He knew the Jedi had had the uncanny knack of knowing what one was thinking. “The Emperor is a trained Force Sensitive and a powerful one at that. And unlike the Jedi, he has little care for false platitudes.” That made Veers go cold and he swallowed heavily. If that were true, that someone like Vader would pause before going up against the man… no wonder Vader had taken a while to get the measure of them both.

“And your health sir?” Veers asked. It made sense now why Vader was so careful in choosing when to disappear if he were seeking to improve himself, presumably without the Emperor’s knowledge. Vader seemed startled at that.

“I see you have been talking with Cody,” the Lord noted wryly, and Veers shared a bemused glance with Piett. Did Lord Vader and the clone know each other before the Empire? Was that why the Commander had referred to Vader as ‘General’ earlier? “It is improved but there will be times I will have to leave to… continue treatment.” That didn’t sound good. Vader had been gone some six standard months this time. If he wasn’t cured in that time, what more could be done? “That is of little consequence now, however,” Vader said, waving away that concern as if it were nothing. Veers had something to say about that, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Vader valued his privacy and Veers was not about to break the man’s trust by prying too closely into something he was clearly uncomfortable talking about. It did put some of his more… reckless moments into perspective, however. He wondered if he ought to slip the man Doctor Kenobi’s contact details. “From today, you are promoted to General, Veers.” That _did_ startle Veers.

“A… Wh… General Syphax?” Veers stuttered, uncharacteristically caught off guard.

“Dead. He met a rather unfortunate fate when seeking pleasure in the arms of his s _lave_.” The pure disdain in the Supreme Commander’s voice was shocking. And somewhat relieving. At least one of their leaders cared about the travesty that was enslavement of organic sentients, no matter their species. That it was incredibly difficult for non-human peoples to gain any rank within the Empire and impossible for non-humanoid species to even hold any kind of power was something that had bothered Veers for a long time. What did it matter the species if they were more efficient than some of the bumbling idiots in power? So, Veers straightened, falling back on that old professionalism in order to not misplace this trust his leader had given him.

“I will not fail you, My Lord,” he said, standing back to attention. Vader dismissed them, his amusement clear.

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

* * *

“Don’t scratch,” Sy-Ro admonished lightly, startling Anakin from his musings by the window. “Villes will be annoyed if you ruin her hard work.” Anakin frowned but resisted the urge to reach back towards his collarbone where the niggling feeling was the worst. But the new skin grafts _itched_ , worse than finding sand in places it had no business being and it annoyed him. Sy-Ro had insisted on fitting in some sessions while he was here, where both Villes and himself could keep an eye on him. He wasn’t sure why- he hadn’t done anything too reckless in weeks.

Apparently, they disagreed.

“You mentioned that you and your wife disagreed on certain topics,” Sy-Ro continued, as if he hadn’t just delved into a persona much like his brother’s and then instantly pulled out of it again. That used to confuse Anakin, putting him off kilter as he waited for the inevitable lecture that never came. Now, it was just another reminder about how different the two brothers were, how much the Jedi may have had an influence on his old master. It made those feelings towards Obi-Wan Kenobi all the more confused. It was much easier concentrating on Padme, so he laughed at the questioning tone in Sy-Ro’s voice.

“Of course, we had our disagreements. I was a Conservative married to a Liberalist. We argued about the Senate, about her involvement with Clovis,” and there was a name that he itched to kill just as surely as the annoying wriggling sensation on the left collarbone, but the man was long dead anyway, “and about how we were as reckless as each other. I thought that all marriages have their arguments?” Sy-Ro gave him a wan smile, his gaze drifting to the vase of yellow roses on the windowsill behind Anakin before continuing.

“Yes, of course they are. We are all sentient after all. Why argue about the Senate?” So, it was going to be one of _those_ sessions, where it felt more like a conversation rather than being interrogated. If only it were not such a weighted topic.

“Padme thought it could work,” Anakin said, considering his words, thinking back on those times. All those moments that one of Padme’s handmaidens would come in, mid-argument, and say that so and so was waiting outside for the Senator and was now a good time. Padme used to say, with a cheeky smile no matter how vicious the argument, that they weren’t arguing, they were _debating_. Even now, it elicited a smile on his face to remember. “She believed in democracy and if anyone could have made it work, it was her. But I thought the system was inefficient, useless, bogged down by petty arguments and bureaucracy. We argued as to what was the better system. A fully working Senate or how the Empire _should_ be working.”

“Should?” Sy-Ro had probably picked up on his frustration even without the Force. Anakin took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten as Sy-Ro encouraged him to do when the deep blackness that was the ferocious krayt dragon that symbolised his anger rose its ugly head. It was surprisingly more effective than anything the Jedi had taught him- namely, to put it aside or release it to the Force. He acknowledged it, felt it and then released it with a breath, letting out a small modicum of it to clear his head.

“The system I believed in, the one that was supposedly implemented still kept the Senate. But, instead of time being wasted by selfish Senators or self-serving bankers, there would be a single authority figure to have the overall decision. The Emperor, however, does not care for listening to the Senate or caring for his people. He only cares about power.” Vaguely, he recalled Piett standing straighter, proclaiming that he would follow _him_ as Emperor. The idea of holding that much power with his volatile temper, with another pressure just as great as the ‘Chosen One’ to follow him everywhere, secretly terrified him. He had found a balance through therapy, through his family and the knowledge that he was not alone in this but the Dark Side was still there, still waiting to envelop him whole. It was not to say he couldn’t use it- there were uses for anger and power after all-, but it was difficult to not _solely_ use it in his darkest moments. No, the new Emperor or Empress would be someone else. Someone more like Padme.

“So, you believe in more of a Constitutional Monarchy, a leader and a Parliament of sorts?” Sy-Ro asked, sounding genuinely interested. “And Senator Amidala believed in a Democracy?”

“Yes,” Anakin agreed, “I suppose.” He tried to distract himself from that infernal itch by concentrating his new left prosthetic, moving the fingers in the rhythm he remembered from having to learn to use the right. He hoped this wouldn’t turn into one of those underhanded sessions where Sy-Ro seemingly accidently got Anakin to open up and realise something. _Seemingly_. That part seemed to be a Kenobi trait in general.

“Hm,” was all Sy-Ro had to say to that. “Personally, I think you may be right about the end of the Republic. I know there were many who were tired of the blatant corruption within the Senate. Probably made it far easier for Palpatine to gain such complete control and declare an Empire.” Anakin huffed, acknowledging that. Palpatine’s manipulations may have run far deeper, influencing the outcome even before the war broke out, no doubt constructed by him anyway. And didn’t that anger him more, all those lives lost, the deaths of thousands and the enslavement of literally millions of clones just so Palpatine could have him Empire. It just made him more determined, that their deaths would not be meaningless by the time this whole sorry mess ended.

“Oh, it did,” he muttered. Their session was broken off however, by a polite knock on the door. A moment later and Sola’s head popped around it, her face grim.

“I’m sorry to cut this short. A General Veers is calling for Lord Vader.”

* * *

Mos Espa was a mess. What the Rebels had been doing, sneaking around in a backwater like Tatooine was beyond Veers, but they had left the city in an uproar. The Hutts had been angered because someone had been releasing slaves, but it was a quiet operation and had demanded the Empire do something about it. Troops had been stationed in the city, but nothing had changed except an increase in med-centres needed to cater for overheated troops. And then some idiots from the Rebellion had wandered into town and started a revolt, outwardly freeing slaves with grand abandon and firing at the Stormtroopers. One had had the audacity to blow up the barracks and therefore wipe out the med-centre. Others had set charges elsewhere. What they were left with was a mass of scum and screaming slaves, some having had their detonators activated because of twitchy owners, others caught in the crossfire and three dead Rebels. Veers had done his best to get the place in order, but the mutinous feeling was still there, and Jabba was howling for answers. He hadn’t seen such horrors here since the Clone Wars ended, even after the atrocities of Ryloth.

It had grieved him to comm Vader, only two months into whatever this new three-month procedure was.

Vader arrived some three rotations later, highly displeased by this turn of events. He was silent as he read through the report, moving silently through the crowd. He stopped at the form of a middle-aged man, dark haired and clinging to a child who had previously been weeping over the corpse of his mother. Veers presumed that he was the father, but the slave culture was something of a mystery to him. Vader, however, seemed to have no such qualms.

“General,” he said, and Veers came to attention quickly. “See to it the rations are equally handed out to all people and that all transmitters are rounded up. I will deal with Jabba myself.” Veers blinked but nodded, firing off orders quickly. In the year he had been a general, he had learnt just _how_ much Vader appreciated efficiency. He personally handed a ration bar and a bottle of water to the man Vader had stopped by, feeling that he was somehow important. The man stared at them, wide-eyed.

“Here,” Veers said as gently as he could. “Are you in need of medical care? We have relief tents set up.” The man blinked but accepted the rations, giving the water to the small boy in his arms first before taking a gulp himself.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice careful, suspicious. No doubt, he had rarely been treated with kindness.

“I am General Veers of the Imperial Army. We don’t just cause war,” Veers said somewhat stiffly. The Rebels were still grating on him. The man blinked, apparently startled at that. “What’s your name?” Veers asked, forcing himself to calm. He probably hadn’t meant any insult.

“Kitster,” the man said, breaking the ration bar in half. “This a Kalif.” The boy just stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. A little-ways away, a twi’lek woman was being tended to by a medic, weeping, her lekku burned, one half amputated from secondary explosions that had destroyed the brothel she worked in only an hour ago. Veers swallowed the anger the sight brought. “There are others who are in need of help more than I,” Kitster said, following Veers’ gaze. Veers nodded and was about to leave when Kitster suddenly grabbed his hand. He turned back, half reaching for his blaster, but surprised at the earnest expression in the ex-slave’s eyes. “Who was that?” he asked, quiet awe in his voice. Veers blinked. Had word of Lord Vader not reached this far into the galaxy?

“Lord Vader,” Veers said. “Second-in-Command of the Galactic Empire.” _A man I would follow into any battle_ he silently added, watching the dark form disappear in a swirl of sand as he left for Jabba’s Palace. Appeased, Kitster let go.

Three hour later, Vader had returned, a small Pantoran woman following in his wake. She was dressed in the kind of rough spun cotton worn by the natives of Tatooine, but she walked with the same assurance that Veers had only seen in the Clone Wars. Only by the Jedi. She had no visible weapons and seemed to be in a quiet, rapid discussion with Lord Vader as they approached. Veers had his hand on his blaster, ready, just in case. He knew Vader could take care of himself, but he also knew his Commander was somewhat lax with his own health and Veers _did_ just have to cut short whatever treatment he had been receiving this time.

“General Veers,” the woman said, when they reached a reasonable distance. Her head was covered to keep the sun off her delicate skin which had shadowed the large scar that cleaved her face almost in two. She didn’t seem too bothered by it. Veers eyed her cautiously.

“Veers this is Sho Verlana,” Vader stated. “The leader of the slave runs sanctioned here.” Veers blinked. So, she worked for Vader. Vader had been _freeing slaves_ under the Emperor’s nose. He quickly re-evaluated his opinion on the Supreme Commander. It would appear that under the terrifying façade and frail health, was an actual human being. And a devious one at that if he was using Force Sensitives to do so. A smirk found its way onto his lips. Oh, how he wished they could move faster, that Vader hadn’t point blank turned down their offer to give him the throne.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Veers said, dropping his hand from his blaster. The woman- Sho- gave him a smile, somewhat marred by the scar that cut through her lips, before sobering somewhat.

“We’ve sent some of our own medics to help. There’s no knowing if any more chips will detonate, even with the transmitters rounded up.” She sounded grim and Veers could silently agree. The death toll of civilians here was unacceptable. They were distracted, however, by the whining of a Toydarion, apparently trying to weasel some claim or another out of a very hassled looking administrator. At some point he had recruited Kitster to help him cover who needed what supplies, who were in the greatest need of medical care and helping to organise more refuge tents as Troopers flushed out any further explosives the Rebels may have left. Veers had had his own personal Troopers do it this time, along with help from Cody after the shoddy job the sanctioned troops had done. The ex-slave was currently eyeing the irate creature with an annoyed look, clearly unhappy that he was taking up precious time. Veers was about to go help when he was cut off by Vader.

“I have no doubt that your paltry scraps were worth over a thousand credits,” Vader rumbled darkly, anger colouring his tone and suddenly Tatooine felt a lot cooler than it had a moment before. Sho took a decisive step backwards, glancing warily between the Toydarion and Lord Vader. “Stop wasting valuable time if you wish to keep your life Watto.” The Toydarion actually forgot to flap his wings for a moment in the surprise of being named and dropped a good foot or so before correcting himself. Veers wasn’t sure who was more shocked- the Toydarion Watto, Kitster, the administrator or himself. _How does Vader know this being?_ Veers wondered and he had probably wondered very loudly as Sho turned towards him. Unlike the others, a slow understanding had dawned over her face and she watched the unfolding events warily. A stream of Huttese left the Toydarion’s mouth, no doubt trying to bully Kitster for an answer. Vader answered in kind, sounding less and less patient with each passing second. Veers could half guess where this would end.

It was Kitster who prevented the Toydarion from meeting with an untimely end.

“Anakin?” It was breathy, awed and horrified all at once. Veers blinked, realising that he actually had no idea of Vader’s first name. He was only ever Lord Vader, the Supreme Commander or, in some places it was whispered, Darth Vader. And he was certain ‘Darth’ was not a name. “Is it really you?” Watto had gone oddly silent, eyes wide. Perhaps he had sensed his impending fate and was wondering if Kitster was about to take it instead. There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed to hold their breath.

“It’s taken a long time for me to fulfil my promise to you,” Vader eventually answered and Kitster’s eyes were wet with tears. He smiled through them anyway.

“Twenty-seven years is better than never,” the man said, voice choked. The pair disappeared off, Vader leaving no instructions. It didn’t matter- Veers knew his orders and Watto had decided to keep his silence, eyes following the retreating back of Veers’ commanding officer. Veers filed the information away for later though. The implications that not only was this Lord Vader’s home planet, but also that he too had once been enslaved, was not lost to him. Instead, he took the preliminary list the administrator had drawn up with Kitster’s help, sent him off to collect more data with a new helper who could understand numbers at the very least and took a moment to breath through this chaos. Sho, who had stayed behind, peeked at the list over his shoulder and grimaced.

“I’ll see about asking for more relief supplies,” she said. “Seems you’re going to need all the help you can get.” In the distance there was a shriek and children’s cries and Veers spotted the dark form of Vader moving swiftly towards it. Considering the lack of smoke and no sound of an explosion, Veers could guess what had happened.

“We might be in more dire need of those medics to remove the chips,” he said evenly, not wanting to think of the gory mess no doubt waiting for Vader. It would be the third one that day, the tenth to go off without use of the transmitter that Veers knew of and the forty second example that week. He was sick of this waste that the Rebels would consider a victory simply because of the limited Imperial presence here. If he got his hands on the rest of them, he would gladly hand them over to Vader for torture. There was no excuse for this kind of useless violence.

“I’ll find them,” Sho promised already turning to do so. She hardly spared him a backwards glance, running off in the same direction the cries were coming from and Veers prayed it wasn’t a child. He couldn’t bear to have to stand vigil over any more.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have taken creative license here with the different traditions in marriage, but it was always curious to me as to how quickly and easily Anakin suggests keeping their relationship a secret. It doesn't seem to bother him as much as it does Padme, who is used to such things being out in the open. But then, the only romantic relationships Anakin knows about, are those from his childhood, bolstered by the fact that even his old master hid his own relationship with Satine. So, I took that idea and ran with it- that Naboo would have different customs probably doesn't occur to Anakin.
> 
> As for the political ideas implemented here: Anakin never actually suggests a completely fascist system. In that picnic scene in everyone's favourite film to hate, he's still talking about people sitting down and talking to each other, just that there should be an authority figure over them. More in line with a monarchy plus parliament where each one keeps the other in check, rather than what the Emperor is planning. And Padme doesn't judge him for it- she argues and makes her case for democracy and then they laugh it out. You know, like people having a conversation do. I would imagine that that wouldn't be the last conversation they had on it, especially since comparatively, Anakin has first hand experience as to why the democracy Padme values so much doesn't work. Slavery running rampant, fighting on the front lines, constantly being stalled by the political backstabbing and images that are going on during the Clone Wars. Compared to that Padme is rather sheltered. And looking at history, we know complete democratic systems do not last- just look at Ancient Greece or Rome, where their own Senates also devolved into squabbling. Caesar, like Palpatine, in fact takes advantage of this- well, until his Senate kills him off, but you get my point. Anakin is in fact correct to see the writing on the wall- that the Republic would not last and he would probably not be the only one, hence why Veers etc. refuse to join the Rebellion because they've seen where that path ends. 
> 
> As for the end... well, we only ever see things from the Rebels point of view. And to them, a destruction of any kind of Imperial base to some of them would be a victory, no matter who gets caught up in the crossfire. And there are extremists in all parties, sanctioned by their leaders or not, that would go so far as to attack a pointless place like Tatooine is depicted as. It ahs no purpose, other than baseless violence. As for the Empire intervening, this is mildly reformed Anakin. He knows he can't kill off the Hutts just yet- the political vacuum would do more harm than good and would make the planet more of a target- but providing relief gives the Empire a better image than just 'destroyers of worlds'. In any case, Star Wars gives us a biased view of the Empire because we only see the military side of it, the Jedi's plight. And yes, they are guilty of heinous things in those films, but it is also a stable system. Luke, before his aunt and uncle are killed, wants to be part of it. Day-to-day running of the Empire doesn't truly effect people like him (Palpatine's eugenics policy is a different issue that Luke doesn't have knowledge of because he is human and therefore is privileged by being ignorant of it) and there was hardly a massive outcry when the Republic became an Empire. Of course, things do get progressively worse (not so much here because Anakin is actively working against the Emperor but in the original trilogy, yes) but the Rebels are still Rebels. They are still attacking places where people will get hurt and not all of them will be doing it for the right reasons (we don't see them but they'll be there I can guarantee).
> 
> Er, my apologies for the heavy subject material, but I hope you semi-enjoyed this instalment. Not sure what will be up next, we'll see. Until next time!


End file.
